


maybe it's not your night

by anthiese



Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ball (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, First Kiss, Pre-Time Skip, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), also idk if this tag exists so i'll make it, kind of gdfyhjdkf, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthiese/pseuds/anthiese
Summary: Seeing the Goddess Tower made her feel shitty about not having anybody to wait for her, anybody to go after her, anybody to turn down— but she has better to do than to worry about that.…except she doesn’t.(or does she?)For the Felannie server drabble challenge!
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592482
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55
Collections: Bread Eaters, Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	maybe it's not your night

**Author's Note:**

> for the felannie server drabble challenge! the prompt, courtesy of our lovely nenalata, was: 200-500 words, dorms, room arrangements, buildings, dorm denizens of Garreg Mach  
> .....I WENT A LOT PAST THAT. BUT IT'S NICE TO BE WRITING! ENJOY!

The thought of going back inside to get more wine tempts Hilda many, many times, as she walks back to the dorms. The ball, to put it simply, fucking sucked. Her adorable little black dress—that she’d been saving for this specific occasion— got stained while she danced (yeah, she probably shouldn’t have danced while holding a full glass, but in her defense, she’d spilled none of the previous four), then she walked all the way up the Goddess Tower for some peace and quiet, and she didn’t get any because of all the stupid couples meeting there to kiss or make out or even worse, confess their honest feelings. Pretty disgusting under all fronts.

(On top of that, it made her feel shitty about not having anybody to wait for her, anybody to go after her, anybody to turn down— but she has better to do than to worry about that.)

…except she doesn’t. She’s climbing the stairs to the dark, unlit corridor of the dorms —unlit because everyone is downstairs drinking and dancing and having fun, while she just had to go and get sad on a night she’d been looking forward to for months— and her feet hurt like fucking hell. One step into the corridor, she’s already decided it’s too much trouble to walk back to her room all dolled up, if there’s no one there to join her, anyway. She hikes up her skirt and sits down cross-legged, in the middle of the corridor, before reaching to unclasp (read: unsuccessfully claw at) her heels, and it takes a good while, but as soon as she’s able to kick them off (with a bit too much strength, sending them thudding against Hubert’s door— oops) she gathers them again, and begins to crawl towards her room.

She’s making her way up the stairs that separate her door from Marianne’s, when she spots a figure curled up at the top. She has half a mind to run away, or at least crawl back into the shadow before having someone see what a huge mess she looks like right now, when the figure sits up, and she sees a familiar tuft of brown hair, and a lopsided pretty smile.

“Hilda.” Claude calls, voice foggy and rough. “You’re back early, fair maiden.”

She snorts, and his smile gets broader, and she wishes she had a pillow to throw in his face, and then he shimmies to the side to leave room for her to pass, but Hilda only crawls up halfway, stopping to sit on the same step as him.

“You reek of wine.” She tells him.

“As do you.”

Claude gives a breathy laugh, one Hilda feels echo deep in her chest and her pounding head.

“Today isn’t our night, is it?” He says, looking up to the ceiling.

He kind of, still looks perfect as always, safe for his hair being more mussed up than usual, so Hilda can only think he’s referring to her.

“Do I look that bad?”

“No.” He replies immediately, suddenly serious. “No, you don’t.”

She snorts.

“It’s something my father told me.” Claude says out of the blue, and Hilda turns to look at him. “The longest days of the year are when evil forces are the strongest, so it’s easier for misfortune to follow you.”

“Any way to stop this?” She asks.

He pushes himself up to his feet, before giving her a hand up, and he goes on while leaning on the stone wall. “You stay together, eat together… Avoid attracting misfortune at all. Do you know what that is?” He jerks his chin up.

Hilda leans on his shoulder to follow his gaze, to the red little thing tied to the ceiling beam.

“Mistletoe?”

He nods. “In Adrestia, if two people meet under one, they have to kiss, or misfortune will follow them for three winters.”

“You _have_ to be fucking with me now.”

Claude shrugs. “Do you mind?”

Hilda considers it. She’d probably mind if it was some other stupid boy, or if she wasn’t tipsy, or if Claude’s eyes weren’t so shiny when he smiles.

“I’ll make an exception for you.”

His eyes shine even brighter, but before he can make his move, Hilda stands on her tiptoes, drags his shoulders down and pushes her lips against his, and it’s…

Well, her head is probably only spinning because of the alcohol, but it still feels so nice to be so close, with his hands at the small of her back, to taste his warmth, his shallow breaths.

A bell tolls in the distance, announcing that it’s midnight or whatever, and they separate. He starts laughing, and Hilda steps back only to cross her arms and squint at him properly. Claude gives a wave of his hand, which then lands in his face to cover his eyes and cheeks.

“I thought you wouldn’t have the guts.” He says, already walking past her, towards his room. “I was _so_ sure!”

She can’t stop herself from tossing a heel against him, but of _course_ someone like Claude von fucking Riegan would have to catch it midair, and then she can only laugh, and tell him “your fault for underestimating me!”

He’s still laughing at he opens the door to his room, and before he ducks in, she almost catches sight of a blush creeping up his face.

♡

Certain as the stars that watch over Fodlan, when the following morning Hilda opens the door to a smiling, tired Claude bringing back her shoe, his face is still smeared in her lipstick.

**Author's Note:**

> if it sounds like dialogue u've seen somewhere in game that's not even their route-- yes, and you're welcome :D


End file.
